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attracted to the vicinity by the odour of the
dead bodies,, set up a dolorous chorus of baying;
and their 'yip? yip3 yip3 hoo-h' only added to the
uncanniness of the situation.

Then another sound floated from the opposite
hill—the hill just back of the place in which the
Indians lay. £Hi~heh? hi-heh, heh-yo, heh-yo/
It was Almighty Voice's wrinkled old mother
chanting her son's death-song.

*I wanted to go in that bluff and take my son
in my arms and protect him/ she told mes sweep-
Ing her arms through the motion of a motherly
embrace. Again and again she had tried to slip
into the brush all during the four days5 vigil, but
each time she was intercepted by the mounted

'They told me/ she said: fi "You must not go
in there; it would not be nice for us to have to
kill a woman.35

'I was very weak that night/ she continued. £I
had had nothing to eat for three days and no sleep.
I did not want to eat while my son was starving/

Presently a deep-toned echo of the old woman's
song came thundering out of the thicket. It
was Almighty Voice answering his mother's
death-song to him. That was the last time his
voice was ever heard. „ . .

At six o'clock the next morning the big guns
began belching forth their devastating storm of